


Forging Alliances

by Cornerofmadness



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 18:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Bradley has been disposed, and Olivier sees this as an opportunity to lay the groundwork for her own cause.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raspberryhunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberryhunter/gifts).



> **Disclaimer** \-- All characters belong to Arakawa.
> 
> **Timeline** \-- post series
> 
> **Warning** \-- none
> 
> **Author’s Note** written for chocolateboxcomm for raspberryhunter. Thanks to enemytosleep for all encouragement, suggestions and beta reading.

X X X

Olivier surveyed her estate taking in the immense house and the sprawling grounds before entering the grand entrance way. Ahlers, the family butler, waited there as her arrival was expected. He stood back stiff, face prim and proper as she always remembered it. How sad, really.

“Miss Olivier, it’s so good to see you well. Mr. Alex Louis has instructed me to show you the preparations for your approval.”

“Like I could care about these frivolities.”

The small man paled and stammered over his next words. Olivier tutted. She’d never cared for servants when she was living here, and after years of leading Briggs she cared for them even less.

“Ri-right. This way, Miss.” Ahlers did not meet her eye but bowed and gestured for her to enter deeper into the grand foyer of her estate.

Funny how she saw it as hers, rather than the family’s. She had seen it as hers even when her parents had still been in residence. They were currently enjoying their time abroad with two of her sisters after Olivier had made sure they were safely out of the country before all of the big battles were waged. Catherine, however, was due back today. Alex Louis had gone to get her from the train station. The rest of them were having too much fun in Xing to come home immediately now that it was safe. Olivier wasn’t sure why Catherine wanted to return early.

Of course, more people would be pouring into the estate for the big party on the weekend. It was all Alex Louis’s doing, a combination welcome home and we survived party, as if either were things requiring this much fuss in her estimation. It was certainly not something she looked forward to but saw it as training for when she’d be Fuhrer. Maybe she hadn’t been made Fuhrer yet – she should have been – but one day, soonish as Grumman was old, all of Amestris would be hers.

Another servant approached Olivier, this one a timid female bearing a large bouquet of orange flowers. 

“Miss Olivier, these were delivered for you this morning.” She held the flowers out for Olivier to take. “There was a letter attached as well, Miss.”

Olivier snatched the bouquet. The flowers were bright orange bells with long, protruding pistils. She tossed them over her shoulder onto the floor. The maid made a move to collect them, and then hesitated. “And the letter?”

“Ah, yes, Miss. Here is the letter.”

Olivier broke the envelope seal with her thumb and yanked out the letter. It was more of a note, really.

_When I passed the flower stalls, the Aerugan lilies were so bright and beautiful I couldn’t help but think of you. Did you know they were also named after the baron who cultivated them? Alstroemeria, though I rather think lilies a more fitting name for such a striking beauty. I look forward to spending time with you this weekend.  
~Roy_

 

She shredded the note fiercely. That damn Mustang and his flirtations. Knowing him there was some secret meaning buried in the bouquet — she would have to ask Miles later — but for now it only made her stomach turn. Growing up she had been made to learn the various histories of mundane things such as flowers, but even as a child she had deemed them not important. Of course, she’d also once made the same decision regarding alchemy and all its esoteric tendencies, but now she would concede that in this arena Mustang had her beat. Beat or not, she would one day have Amestris.

But not hers alone. No, that bastard Mustang would be keeping an eye on her and her rule. It irritated her that she didn’t have a good counter to his alchemy. She hadn’t the temperament to learn the family traditions as far as alchemy went. Olivier found she might have made a grievous error in that, but over all, she preferred her might and military abilities. 

She would never let Mustang know but Olivier admired his abilities and his intelligence, though she did think he’d been promoted too quickly. Also, his heart was soft as her brother’s, a weakness neither man had conquered. She had no patience for it when Mustang’s crew had come to Briggs for training nor when her men had gone to his stomping grounds in the East. But she could live with that reluctantly – his tender heart more so than her brother’s which embarrassed her as an Armstrong. It was Mustang’s flirtations she couldn’t bear. How shocked had she been to learn his flowers and other ‘romantic’ gestures were covert codes for passing information. He was too clever for his own good. He’d be safe while Grumman was in charge. If she were the next Fuhrer, she’d be sure to use Mustang. If it was someone else, he might meet a sticky end.

The servant led her past the foyer having gathered up the flowers, and into the grand ballroom where decorations were already underway. Alex Louis’ aesthetic, no doubt, given the number of Armstrong roses already brought in from one of the gardens. They passed the tables that had already been set up along the outer edges of the dance floor, then down the marble stairs toward the large patio beyond. Mustang would be at the party with his men, including the one in the wheelchair. She wondered how he would manage this place what with all the staircases everywhere. 

“No one is to use alchemy on my estate this weekend. Is that clear? Mustang and his brat alchemist are not to lay a hand on my stairs.”

“Yes, Miss, absolutely.”

With her luck, her ridiculously tenderhearted brother would be the one to transmute the staircase for Mustang’s man, or else carry him around like an oversized baby. She heard Mustang and Marcoh were working on alchemy to fix his man. She was part of the handful of people who knew Mustang had been blinded and how the Philosopher’s Stone had cured him. Even with as little as she knew of alchemy she knew that the Philosopher’s Stone was too dangerous of a thing to exist. If she had her way, all books detailing it would be destroyed, and she was against the destruction of knowledge in general. Yes, the ignorant masses were easier to control, but they’d also stagnate and fall behind other countries like Xing. The first thing she’d suggest to Grumman was to establish a trade route – preferably by train – to Xing. She’d already heard her brother and Mustang discussing reparations and rebuilding for the Ishbalans whose desert homeland was between here and Xing. She saw the wisdom of it.

The servants led her around the perimeter of the estate. It seemed the groundskeeper had maintained his usual level of excellency despite the brief interruption of services while she had led the attack on Central. She would be sure to keep the man on: she valued a competent worker. Their path led them back to the sprawling manse and the lovely, large pool off to the south of it. The pool was her mother’s pride and joy, done up like an ancient Xerxes temple. 

“Mr. Alex Louis has added some extra shaded areas on account of our guests with automail.” Ahlers gestured to the surrounding area. She nodded.

She noticed Alex Louis had been making a few other tweaks here and there. At least there weren’t any half naked transmuted statues of him pool side. She half expected there would be. There was, however, one of her in an alcove - fully clothed, thankfully - in her Briggs Winter uniform, sword raised. Her brother truly did have an artist’s soul, and he was talented too. It meant she’d never fully understand him, but she did admire Alex Louis’s skill.

She sat in a deck chair, surveying the pool. Buccaneer wouldn’t have liked it if for no other reason than automail wasn’t made for swimming. Oh, how she missed him. She wouldn’t let it show in public but his death hurt her. At least, she still had Miles. She kept her fondness for him tucked away. He’d be here soon. Olivier looked forward to that.

She sat until the sun baked her too warmly and was just about to go inside the house to see if the food prep was coming along fine when a shadow fell over her. Ahlers had returned with Miles at his side.

“Mr. Miles, ma’am,” Ahlers said.

“Thank you, Ahlers, that’ll be all,” she said, forcing herself to be nice. Olivier stood, making a sharp motion of her hand, beckoning Miles to follow her under the covered patio, hoping for a bit of coolness.

Miles had his head on a swivel, having never been to the Armstrong estate before. Yes, he’d known she was wealthy – it wasn’t a secret – but it often affected people this way when they first saw it. She scowled, knowing it shouldn’t matter to her. Some families were on the top and others on the bottom. It had been so since the beginning of time and would most likely end time the same way. It wasn’t her fault that she had more, and she shouldn’t feel somehow embarrassed by it. On the other hand, she knew how little Miles had growing up, and it did bother her.

“I’m glad you could it here, early, Miles,” she said, going to the well-stocked bar under the patio roof along the far wall. She poured herself a peaty whiskey and held up the bottle for his inspection. Miles nodded so she poured him a tumbler too, and then indicated for him to sit at the table. “We probably won’t get a chance to talk about anything of importance at this ridiculous party.”

A tight smile played across his lips, and he set his customary sunglasses on the table. Ruby eyes met her gaze, holding it. That’s what she liked about him. Miles was a proper soldier but he also wasn’t fearful of her. He respected her. “I assumed you would like to talk more about our plans.”

She nodded. “I’m giving it some second thoughts.”

“The possible alliance with Mustang?” Miles’s smile grew. “Has he been inappropriate again?”

Olivier snorted. “That man wouldn’t know propriety if it bit him on his lazy ass.”

“I know you do not need my assistance to sort him out but I am yours to command.”

“I appreciate that. I would hate to send anyone up against an alchemist of his caliber,” she said, hating to admit it. She would never waste Miles in such a way.

“Which is why you proposed the alliance,” he reminded her needlessly.

Olivier filled him in on Mustang’s flowers and note. Miles rubbed his chin, mulling it over.

“I would like to think on that before offering up an opinion as to any hidden meanings in his note.”

“Of course. There probably is one. He likes to operate that way.”

“Do you think he would be a trustworthy ally?” Miles asked.

Olivier hesitated. “I think he does want what’s best for this country. Whether or not he and I see eye to eye on that, is anyone’s guess. He thinks a bit like my brother so I have some idea how he might react.”

“Is it true he and your brother want to put a plan in place to help Ishbal?”

The hopefulness in Miles’s voice tore at the stone wall she had erected around her emotions. Naturally, Miles was torn. He was her man through and through, but his blood came from that desert. He had been raised, however, within an Amestrian city, not out in the desert towns with their overweening religion. She knew his grandfather hadn’t been particularly religious but he had been proud of his heritage. Miles was proud of both of his, no matter how at odds they had been. She didn’t want to lose him but she didn’t want to stand in his way either.

“Yes, but I don’t know much about it either. Mustang has been in recovery from his injuries, and I haven’t had a chance to talk to him much. I will try to corner him later provided he can stop sending me flowers for five minutes.”

“Cad,” Miles said, and then chuckled. He sobered almost instantly. “I have ideas for rebuilding Ishbal.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“But I do not want to leave Briggs.” The ‘I don’t want to leave you’ was inherent in that and again Olivier was moved by his loyalty.

“It doesn’t have to be one or the other, at least I hope not. If there is an alliance between Mustang and myself, I will need a go-between. You would be excellent.” Certainly, better than herself or Buccaneer had he still been with them. They hadn’t the patience nor the guile needed to handle Mustang. “You could be part of whatever task force Mustang convinces Grumman to create but it would be but a temporary assignment. You could keep an eye on Mustang for me at the same time.”

His red eyes gleamed. “That’s a possibility. I hear Mustang plays chess. I could invite him to play, feel him out if you have a set here.” He eyed the side of the house as if in disbelief that there wasn’t a chess set somewhere inside.

Olivier grinned. “I’ll have it set up and anything else you think you’ll need.”

“That’ll be a good start.”

“Let’s hear your thoughts about what to do with Ishbal,” she said, figuring it had to be more interesting than wondering if the cook had the meal prep going. She wasn’t wrong. By the end, Olivier was excited to see what she and her men could make of all the new opportunities their fresh new regime could offer.  
 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Catherine had finally stopped hugging her. Oliver couldn’t be more grateful. She had to endure multiple hugs from the moment Alex Louis brought Catherine home, all the way through until breakfast. She had even hugged Olivier in front of Miles who could barely hide his amusement. Thankfully she stopped once company began to arrive. 

The large lunch had taxed every last one of Olivier’s nerves. Maybe she would make a poor Fuhrer based solely on her inability to stay civil in dinners of state. There had been too much noise between the remains of her men and Mustang’s. The Elrics alone made enough decibels to qualify as a weapon of mass destruction - well Fullmetal and his girlfriend, Rockbell. Alphonse, emaciated and obviously exhausted by it all, was quiet and polite. She liked him far more than that shrimp brother of his. At least they had dragged along the Curtises in addition to Winry’s grandmother. Olivier like the Curtises. Sig seemed to hit it off with Alex Louis, and she admired Izumi. The woman was tough.

After the huge meal, everyone went pool side where drinks and a live band waited. If nothing else, Alex Louis knew how to throw a party. Olivier lingered in her office for a while, working up the will to endure hours more of these people. She finally went outside and they seemed to be everywhere. Olivier sucked in a deep breath and waded out into it, wondering how to handle so many people. 

The thought she wasn’t cut out for being head of state floating through her brain again. Second guessing herself like this was a rarity, and she hated it. She wanted to bellow at everyone to bring them to heel. Her men would fall in line. Mustang’s too, but Flame and Fullmetal would just raise an eyebrow and keep doing whatever annoying thing they were doing unless she missed her guess. Strongarm would probably prattle on about how proud he was of his sister and how skillful she was in making people obey.

Where was he anyhow? Ah, there with Sig doing a lot of flexing and probably discussing the care and feeding of their muscles. Miles had deserted her too, astonishingly enough. She spotted him under the gazebo with Mustang playing chess as planned. She didn’t know where Miles found the patience for it but she hoped he was getting a feel for Mustang. Olivier spotted her best option for intelligent conversation. Hawkeye rested on a lounge chair nursing a tall iced drink. She had her skirt pulled to her knees in deference to the hot sun. Her shoes and hose were off as well. She was probably one of those women who could wear garters effortlessly. Olivier preferred to avoid the whole thing by wearing pants, like the men’s styled suit she had on, but she had given up the jacket. Her cold acclimated blood couldn’t adjust to the heat. She had hated maneuvers out East with Mustang’s men where the sun was vicious.

“He seems to have recovered,” Olivier said, dropping into the seat next to Hawkeye. It was a deceptively simple question. She wanted to see how much information she could get from Mustang’s right-hand man.

Hawkeye sipped her drink. “The general is well.”

So, the answer was not much information at all.

“Is he hard to work for? I’ve heard he was lazy and will flirt with anything.” That much was true. She had heard wild speculation about Mustang’s sex life to include Hawkeye herself, half the women in the East, half of his men including Fullmetal - but she knew better than to accuse him of pedophilia. Maybe now that Elric had reached maturity, however. Of course, Olivier had also once been numbered among Mustang’s conquests; a rumor that lasted until she found who started it and folded and spindled him.

“He does hate signing paperwork,” Hawkeye said, watching Olivier out of the corner of her eye.

Olivier snorted. “I can’t blame him there. Is Grumman sending you back East?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t gotten our marching orders, ma’am. Though I think Fuhrer Grumman might keep us here. I know the general has plans for helping to rebuild Ishbal.”

“I’m sure I’ll be returning to Briggs.”

“It would be hard to imagine it without its wall.” A smile ghosted across Hawkeye’s lips.

Olivier snorted. “I do what I can, though I may be doing it without one of my best men.” She nodded At Miles. “I suspect he’s talking Ishbal with your boss.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m almost shocked to not see Scar here doing the same.”

“Technically he’s a wanted man.” Olivier gestured for a servant. “Tea: you know how I take it,” she told the maid, a bit shy to publicly announce how sweet she liked it. It flew in the face of her tough reputation. “But I have no doubts he’ll be part of any rebuilding done in the desert.”

Hawkeye nodded. “Your family home is beautiful. I believe the Colonel...I mean, General, said something about you leaving it to him.”

Olivier snorted. “Is he planning on moving in?”

“Not until he saw this pool. You might want to check the closets after the party to be sure he’s not hiding out.” Hawkeyes grinned.

Chuckling, Olivier replied, “I’ll check the attic for interlopers. Alex Louis would probably enjoy the company.”

“It’s best not to encourage him, I find.”

“I’ve learned that already. Flame is obnoxious. “ A splash drew her attention. Falman and two of the friends he’d made among her men during his time in Briggs, were in the pool. “Will you be swimming?”

Hawkeye shook her head. “I’m not much of a swimmer, though surprisingly the general is.” 

“I would have thought Flame hated water,” Olivier said but Hawkeye did little more than nod. Not that Olivier expected more than that, really. Hawkeye wouldn’t openly admit to Flame’s weakness, his inability to create a spark in the rain. Granted, she’d heard from her brother what Mustang had done in Central transmuting the water to its component gases and basically taking out a city block. No, it would be a serious mistake to ever underestimate him. Olivier realized, somewhat belatedly that was Mustang’s cover. She went with overt power, just daring anyone to try and take her on. He hid behind a goofy, flirtatious façade. “With all the time in the mirror fixing his hair I’m surprised he’s willing to ruin it by swimming.” That earned a quiet laugh from Hawkeye.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea!” Elric’s loud voice dragged Olivier’s attention pool side. Her brother and Mustang were there in their swim wear, blue trunks and white tank tops. Thankfully her brother was being modest at this party. She had seen him in far skimpier outfits. Winry and Ed were both supporting Alphonse whose ravaged body could barely hold himself up on his feet. He’d been given swim wear that looked like it could float off in a heartbeat.

“How could it be a bad one? What could possibly happen?” Mustang shot back.

“Hey, General Jackass, what’s all the noise about?” Olivier called jovially.

Elric snorted. “General Jackass, I have to remember that one.”

“Thanks Olivier.” Mustang shot her the stink eye.

“To be fair, sir, Edward would have come up with it on his own,” Hawkeye put in, and Mustang pouted at her.

“Alphonse wanted to sit in the water,” Mustang said. “Edward is being unbelievably possessive about it. The cord has been cut. Let your brother make his own choices.”

They fell to squabbling about it, Elric dropping his brother’s arm as he gesticulated at Mustang. Olivier wasn’t sure she had ever seen that many obscene gestures deployed in rapid succession.

“Are they always like this?” she asked Hawkeye.

“Every time. The only reason they’re both alive is I didn’t want to face a military tribunal for shooting two state alchemists,” Hawkeye replied, deadpan.

Olivier chuckled. “You’re a better woman than I, Hawkeye. We’d have found their remains in an ice bear cave, and it would have been written off as an accident.”

“I didn’t have any handy ice bears,” Hawkeye said as Rockbell could be heard saying ‘Ed, it’ll do Al’s muscles good.”

Olivier watched as her brother and Mustang accepted Alphonse from the girl and sat him on the stairs up to his waist in water. Al moved his arms and legs against the resistance, enjoying himself judging by his expression. Once content he was steady, Alex Louis and Mustang swam off. Their tender hearts would do them in one day, she was sure. Elric plopped down on edge of the pool by his brother, keeping his automail foot out of the water. Rockbell joined the swimmers.

Olivier glanced over at Hawkeye, spotting the scar on her neck. She’d heard the story how her blood had been used to open the gate, how Mustang had been used, how they had both nearly died because of it, and much more impressive to her, how they had used each other to aim and fire even after Mustang’s sight had been stolen. If she ended up Fuhrer, these were people she might want on her team. “I am in awe about how it all ended, you know.”

Hawkeye glanced at her. “I’m in awe that we’re all alive or at least, most of us.”

Olivier thought about Buccaneer and then nodded. “It is nothing short of miraculous, if I believed in that sort of thing.” She looked up as a shadow fell over her. Miles sat in the chair next to her, his dark skin glistening in the sun. He wore swimwear, but she doubted he knew how to swim. “Did you beat Mustang?”

He smiled. “Almost. He is quite crafty at the game.”

That told Olivier a lot. Miles played expertly. Mustang might be even smarter than she gave him credit. “Is it true, Hawkeye, he has you all play chess?”

“He encourages his men to learn the game,” she replied. “And Go, it’s a Xingese game.”

Miles leaned over the arm of his chair a bit. “I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know how to play.”

“You should have him teach you,” Olivier suggested. Mustang was often a pretentious braggart but she was learning there was a lot more to him than that. She needed her top dog at his side, gleaning what information he could.

“Does he know how to play Senet? It’s an Ishbalan game of strategy,” Miles said.

“I believe he does, but I’ve not seen him play it since the war.” Hawkeye had seemed so casually in control up until now, when she betrayed herself with the slightest change in expression. Olivier knew she’d just learned something Hawkeye hadn’t meant to let slip.

Miles didn’t indicate that he had caught the reference, but Olivier doubted he would have heard the rumor she had: Hawkeye’s father had been the one to teach Mustang. If that were true – and Alex Louis believed it was – then Hawkeye knew Mustang since before the Ishbalan war, and no doubt was highly bonded and devoted to Mustang. She wouldn’t make the mistake of trying to pit one against the other should the need ever arise. 

“I wish I had the patience for the game,” Olivier said. She actually did wish it. Her father had her taught as a child, as a prelude to military strategy, but she preferred the real thing. Patience couldn’t be taught. 

She watched the swimmers. Her men flailed about, having fun but not having much expertise in it. Little call for swimming in Briggs. Her brother and Mustang made it look effortless. Mustang was as sleek and quick as an otter and probably just as mischievous. He’d splash Fullmetal on every third pass infuriating the young man until he nearly slipped into the pool on top of his brother. Alphonse seemed both amused and weary of the pair of them. Olivier didn’t blame him. He’d been dealing with their nonsense for years if Olivier had their history right.

Finally, Mustang climbed out of the water and stood on the edge of the pool. He stripped off the sopping swim shirt and wrung it out on the grass next to the pool. He was far more muscled than she had imagined, again realizing how much of his lazy desk jockey attitude was for show. A vicious scar knotted the side of his gut and now, she was sure she could see it was true. He had carved his transmutation circle into the flesh of his own hand. The scar – along with the fresh ones from having been impaled onto the transmutation circle to open the gate – shown in the sunlight. He was an impressive specimen. She would never give him the satisfaction of admitting that fact.

Mustang sauntered over and sat down next to Hawkeye. “It’s a wonderful party, Olivier.”

“Thank Alex Louis. This was his doing.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said then glanced across to the covered patio where Catherine laughed loudly at something his men – the one in the wheel chair and the red head – had said to her. “Havoc.” Mustang shook his head. “He has no idea how out of his depth he is flirting with your sister.”

“She seems happy enough,” Olivier said, not sure how to feel about it. Catherine was her own woman; one Olivier actually didn’t know as well as she should in many respects. She received regular letters from her sister, sent few in return. Catherine was still young, didn’t have a set plan for her future, but whatever it was, she wasn’t following in her sister or brother’s footsteps. That was fine. Olivier knew Catherine didn’t have the right temperament for the military. “She’ll break him worse than he already is if he gets too out of hand.”

“Oh, I know. You forget, I’ve been here before with your brother. I’m aware of how delightful your sister is and how damn strong.”

Olivier and Hawkeye studied him. Did Hawkeye wonder the same as Olivier? Had he seduced her sister? She’d have ice bears to feed in that case.

“Your brother and Catherine were having a contest of strength,” he said as if reading their minds. “It was…sparkly.” Mustang tugged his wet shirt back on. “I could get used to living like this.”

“I’ve already been warned to make sure you don’t hide out when it’s time to go.”

“Hawkeye, have you been telling stories on me?” He grinned at her.

“Me sir? Never.” Hawkeye didn’t so much as blink.

Another of the Armstrong maids arrived to see if Miles or Mustang wanted anything. A lemonade and tea with a whiskey chaser was the answer.

“General Mustang, Hawkeye said you know how to play Senet,” Miles said. 

He nodded. “I’m not as good at it as chess, but I’d be very interested to reacquaint myself if you can suffer a rusty player.”

“I would. And I’d like to learn Go, if you’re willing to teach,” Miles said eagerly.

“I can at least get you started.”

“That would be wonderful, sir. If I may,” Miles pushed his dark glasses further up the bridge of his nose, the corner of mouth turned up in the tiniest smirk, “Is it true that you and Strongarm are already taking plans to Grumman about the rebuilding of Ishbal? I’ve ideas if you’re interested.” 

Ah so Miles had merely been laying the groundwork before, waiting to develop some trust before broaching this topic. Olivier approved of that tact.

Mustang’s dark eyes lit up. “I am.”

“And in that vein,” Olivier interrupted the performance. “Now that it’s over, I think you and I need to talk, Mustang. Just because Bradley is gone doesn’t mean all those loyal to him are as well.”

His excited look dimmed. “I know. What did you have in mind, Olivier?”

She didn’t come out and say the word alliance, but they talked around it. At the end, she thought they had hammered out an interesting proposal that should benefit them both. She doubted Mustang had laid all his cards on the table and knew she hadn’t, but still, this would be something that should work out. She didn’t want to see a return of Bradley’s Amestris and neither did Mustang or Hawkeye. They’d be stronger working together.

_Hmm, Alex Louis was right. This party was worthwhile._ That surprised her. Olivier studied her brother with new respect, dinged a bit by the fact he and Sig were encouraging Mustang’s men and her own, Miles excluded since he was still where he belonged at her side, to show off their muscles for the ladies. How did Mustang describe it? Ah, yes, sparkly. That was such a good description of her brother. Sparkly, sensitive, artistic. Everything she wasn’t, but that was all right too. 

Mustang went to help Elric fish his brother out of the pool. The band played on. Mustang swept Hawkeye up in a dance and then Catherine while Olivier watched the nonsense from her deck chair. She was surprised when Miles asked Riza to dance, but even more shocked when Mustang came to pull her out on the grass. He was too short to waltz with her well but if she was ever going to learn the social niceties, why not start with a master of them?

In the end, this had been a profitable party. She had a decent plan for the future. What more could Olivier ask for?


End file.
